


How We Stay Whole

by ad_asterism



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Asexual Pidge | Katie Holt, Budding Love, Comfort Food, Double Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Heart-to-Heart, Hunk (Voltron) is so Pure, Hunk (Voltron)-centric, Hurt/Comfort, I really just love them honestly, Insomnia, Just kids being kids, Pidge | Katie Holt-centric, Pining Hunk, Punk, Self-Doubt, background klance, hidge, in a war zone, pangst?, we need more hidge content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 07:12:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12576468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ad_asterism/pseuds/ad_asterism
Summary: Pidge has insomnia. Hunk has the midnight snackies. Cuddling ensues.(Double drabble based onthis art by @crazytom on Tumblr.  Chapter 1 is based on the left side of the art and has those good comforting Hunk cuddles. Chapter 2 is based on the right side of the art, is set in the future, and is absolutely NSFW.)





	1. Don't Go

**Author's Note:**

> I saw this the other day and I liked it so much that it sent me down a deep dark hole of Hidge (Punk?) fics....unfortunately, that hole was actually pretty shallow. So I decided to write the content i want to see in the world and made this drabble based on @crazytom's art.
> 
> I love @crazytom's aged-up Hunk and Pidge, so.... there might be another chapter coming of this, for the other half of that art. 
> 
> enjoy!
> 
> Edit: link doesn't seem to be working but here it is: https://crazytom666.tumblr.com/post/165346456467

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge has insomnia. Hunk has the midnight snackies. Cuddling ensues.

It’s the middle of the artificial night, and the lights of the castle are set to dim. The hallways feel too large tonight, the Altean architecture looming high above Pidge’s small form. She shuffles down the corridor wrapped in a striped blanket, with deep bags under her eyes. Her head feels like it’s full of cotton, her eyes are swollen, and her balance is terrible- she’s so tired that the whole castle feels like it could tilt under her any second. 

If only she could sleep.

Pidge yawns, and continues her slow shuffle down the hallway. She pauses where the corridor turns. Down to the left is Green’s hangar- far, far down this dark corridor, past three left turns and a long flight of stairs. It never seems like a long way in daylight, but alone, and in the dark….it suddenly seems so far, and so unfriendly.

Pidge has spent the last two hours lying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. She had always thought that being out in space would calm her restlessness, that it was just the pull of the galaxy keeping her awake during the long nights at the Garrison. Since they’ve been on the Castle, though, her insomnia has been worse than ever, a cold, restless hole in her chest telling her to be better, to be smarter, that she’s not looking hard enough. The others are all so much older than her. So much better at fighting, so much more physically imposing. None of them can hold a candle to her genius, except for maybe Hunk, but sometimes it’s all she can do to keep up with them on the training deck. She’s not trying hard enough. She just has to find a way to keep up, and somehow find her family as well. She just has to find the right balance. Somehow.

Pidge knows full well that brooding is gonna do her no good, so she’d rolled out of bed and started the long trek down the hall. She’d thought that spending some time tinkering with Green would calm her down. It usually helps to lose herself in numbers, sift through reams of data, work on Rover in her makeshift lab...but suddenly the thought doesn’t seem so appealing anymore. The faint mechanical hum of the Castle is echoing in a strange way through the halls, and the cold is bothering her more than usual. Pidge loves Green, she really does, but the idea of having the giant robot towering over her in the dark hangar suddenly seems less than comforting. 

Pidge prides herself on being a tech junkie, and her robots are awesome...but they’re not the same as human company.

She takes another look down the corridor, and feels Green’s faint purr in the back of her head. 

“I know,” she whispers. “I’m sorry.”

A feeling pushes at her like a head butting up under her hand- acceptance, understanding, affection. She smiles a little, a small, shaky thing, and lets out a long breath. 

“Thanks, girl.” Pidge yawns, and turns in the corridor. Maybe if she just gets some more blankets… that would help, right? She’s just cold. 

Pidge is shuffling down the corridor, zombie-like, when a door slides open just behind her, flooding the Castle’s hallway with yellow light. Her shadow stretches out ahead of her. Pidge blinks at the sudden brightness and shades her eyes, turning sluggishly around, squinting at the large figure in the glowing doorway.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” it says, resolving into Hunk. 

“Mrgnh,” says Pidge. She pulls the blanket over her face. “Too bright.”

“Pidge, what are you doing lurking out here?” Hunk asks. He reaches a hand sideways, and dims the light to a thin wedge that barely illuminates her face. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

 

Pidge lowers the blanket. “Not lurking. I just…” She sighs. “I can’t sleep.”

“You too, huh?” Hunk says, and then grimaces. “Today must have been pretty rough for you.”

Pidge nods. Her throat feels tight, and her eyes start to prickle. She tries to say something quippy, but it catches at the back of her throat. “I…” She takes a deep breath. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

“Hey,” Hunk says, face filling with concern, “you okay?”

“I’m fine,” says Pidge, pulling the blanket tighter around her. “I’ll be fine.”

Hunk watches her for a second, and then opens up his arms. “Do you need a hug?”

In the dim orange light, Hunk’s large form is mostly in shadow. He should be scary, Pidge thinks, but for some reason, his broad shoulders and big arms don’t loom over her the same way that everything else in the Castle seems to tonight. 

She takes a slow step forward. Then another. And leans her forehead against his chest, clutching the blanket around her as though it might keep her from shattering into a million smoking pieces. 

Hunk gathers her up in a tight hug. He’s warm, and soft, and human in a way that Pidge hadn’t realized she needed until this moment. She lets out a shaky breath, and realizes that it’s almost a sob. He hesitates, then lets one hand come up to the back of her head, stroking her hair. His other hand starts to rub small, slow circles between her shoulder blades, and she slumps against him, tension unknotting in her back. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. Her fists tighten around the blanket, and she brings it closer into her chest. “This is so stupid.”

“Don’t be.” Hunk’s chest rumbles against her when he speaks. It’s comforting, almost like Green purring the back of her head. “It’s okay to be upset. We’re fighting a war and all.”

“I just feel dumb.” She sniffs once, and turns her head, settling deeper into the hug. “I don’t want to go all girly on you here.”

Hunk chuckles, and Pidge feels the movement of it all around her. “You know how much I do this for Lance? Uh, so much. That boy cries over way stupider things than this.” Pidge can’t see Hunk’s face, but she’s 99% sure he’s winking right now. She cracks a smile.

“Yeah. Lance is a drama queen.” She smiles into her blanket. Hunk doesn’t let go, and she realizes all of a sudden that the jagged restlessness in her chest has stilled to something softer, something whose edges won’t cut at her lungs.

They stay like that for a while. Pidge isn’t sure how long it is- her internal clock is so broken right now- but when Hunk loosens his grip and goes to pull away, something inside her goes not yet. It isn’t long enough to make her feel like a human again. It doesn’t feel like enough. She doesn’t want to be alone right now, but she doesn’t want to take up Hunk’s time- he already does so much for all of them, has so many people to care for. She doesn’t want to put another burden on him.

She takes a step back, thinking about her cold, empty room, but Hunk catches her by the shoulders.

“Hey, wait,” he says. “I was about to go over to the kitchen for a midnight snack. I can get you something too, if you want.” He eyes her swaying, blanket-shrouded form, seeming to make a decision. “Why don’t bring I it back here? We can have a slumber party. Or, you know, an insomnia party. Whatever.”

Pidge smiles gratefully up at him. His gaze is warm and safe and exactly what she needs right now. “Yeah…. Yeah, that’d be good. Really good, actually.”

“Okay,” says Hunk, “just…. don’t go anywhere, okay?”

__________________________________________________________

 

Hunk’s trip to the kitchen is lightning-fast. Normally, he takes his time choosing his snacks, taste-testing and combining and trying new flavours. Tonight, he knows exactly what he wants- all of Pidge’s comfort foods. They’ve long since figured out the Castle’s kitchen controls, and it’s only a few minutes’ work to punch in the combinations of Altean symbols for crunchiness, stickiness, sweetness, salt. 

When he makes it back to his room, Pidge is curled up at the foot of his bunk. Dressed only in her sleep shirt and the striped blanket, she looks tiny and vulnerable in a way that she never does during the day, with her firecracker energy and endless know-how. Her knees are drawn up to her chin, and she’s turning her glasses over and over in her hands, brooding. The bags under her eyes are dark against her pale skin, purple like bruises. Hunk doesn’t know why he hasn’t noticed them before. 

Pidge looks up as he walks in, and her eyes fall on the bowls balanced in his hands. She offers him a strained smile. “Aw, you made my favorites!”

“Of course.” Hunk sets the bowls in the crumpled covers by her feet and sits down next to her, leaning on the wall. His eyes fall on the glasses. “You’re still thinking about him?”

Her hand closes around the glasses, pulling them to her chest almost by reflex. “I know I shouldn’t. I know it’s distracting me from the mission, I just….” She slumps down the wall. “I was this close, Hunk. This close. If I’d only had another thirty seconds with that data, maybe I would have something, you know? And now it’s all gone.”

Her voice sounds broken, hoarse. She’s curled around the glasses, her shoulders shaking, leaning slightly away from Hunk as though she doesn’t want him to see. He has a pang of sympathy, a ripping, jagged thing. It’s so wrong to see Pidge fold in on herself, when she normally takes up so much space. She should be snarky and biting and smacking his hand away, bantering with him over the commlinks, throwing ideas back and forth until they light up with it and forget everyone else is even there. Pidge is never small like this. 

He doesn’t know what to say. He only knows how to give comfort one way, so he turns a little, and nudges her arm. “Would some patented Hunk cuddles help you out here?”

She takes another shaky breath, and lets it out. For a second he thinks she’s gonna say no, but then she nods.

“C’mere.” Hunk pulls Pidge away from the wall, swinging her legs into his lap. He wraps an arm around her back, and uses the other to tug her closer. She curls in closer to his chest, the glasses held close against her. Hunk leans back against the wall.

“What if I never find them?”

Pidge’s voice is small, so small in the dim room. Hunk is hyperaware of her warmth where she’s curled against him. He’s careful to keep his hands on safe places, comforting without pressuring. He squeezes reassuringly.

“You will.” 

“I’m just so tired all the time. Allura keeps telling me to focus on the mission, that I can’t endanger all of you like this, and I…. Hunk, what if she’s right? What if I get so distracted by this that I mess up, and something terrible happens? Am I not trying hard enough with Green? But then also, what if I stop looking, and then it’s too late, and I never find them because I missed my chance? What if I’m running out of time, Hunk, what if… what if I…”

Pidge buries her face in Hunk’s shirt, and he realizes that she’s crying silently, tears flooding down her face. Her whole body shakes with the force of her sobs, and Hunk pulls her closer. She’s so young, he realizes. Too young to fighting in this war. Not that he would ever dare to say that to her face, though. Instead he tightens his grip and rocks her a little, letting her cry it out. 

“I know,” he says simply. “I’m scared too.”

He lets his chin fall to the top of her head, tucking her into his chest. Her hair smells like mint and basil and very faintly of engine oil. It’s a surprisingly nice combination. He strokes her hair absently with one hand, and her shuddering sobs slow down.

“That’s it,” he says. “Let it out.”

Finally, Pidge is calm enough to wipe her face on the heel of her hand. “I’m sorry,” she says again, “I didn’t want to put this all on you. I should probably go.” 

Hunk’s heart hurts a little. As she moves to stand up, he tightens his grip- not enough to hold her down, but enough to say don’t go. 

“I’d rather have you here than crying alone,” he tells her.

Pidge looks at him for a second. She smiles wetly, her face still twisted in a funny way, and then settles back down into Hunk’s lap, resting her head on her hand directly over his heart. They settle themselves together comfortably. Pidge closes her eyes.

“Hunk?”

“Mhm?”

“Thank you.”

He shifts a little, draping his arm loosely around her back. “You’d do the same for me.”

“No I wouldn’t,” says Pidge sleepily, “I’m small and mean and, and, techy, and awkward. I’m not good at comforting like you are. I wouldn’t know what to say.” She nudges into his chest, and yawns. “Plus my hugs aren’t nearly this good.” 

“Sure they are, Pidgeon. I’m getting one this good right now.” Hunk closes his eyes, breathing in the smell of her, letting his tired mind wander. He mentally replays Pidge’s words and frowns a little.

“You are trying hard enough, you know,” he says eventually.

Pidge doesn’t reply, but buries her face further into his shirt.

“And you’re not mean. You’re a little blunt sometimes, and you’re smart, but that doesn’t make you mean, just excited and a little ahead of yourself sometimes. But you work so hard to make everything happen, Pidge. I think you maybe sleep less than Shiro, even, because you’re working so hard on finding the Galra and finding your family and making everything work on the Castle, all the tech and the robots and the hacking.” He huffs a laugh. “You basically run this castle.” 

He’s not sure why he feels nervous. It’s just a pep talk. He gives these to Lance all the time. But this feels- different. Pidge is so rarely vulnerable. It feels like she’s given him a gift, trusting him like this, like this dim, midnight moment is precious somehow. He doesn’t want to shatter it. He doesn’t want her to laugh and get up and pull away- he wants her to stay, wants this moment to stretch into something tangible, something more.

“You’re the most brilliant person I know. You make me feel a little dumb sometimes, and I’m smart, okay?” Hunk hesitates, feeling a little awkward, but the momentum of his words has a life of its own now. “We would all be lost without you. That is- I, um, I would, anyway. Ha, and Coran. But he only keeps you around to get into the tight places to fix what he can’t reach… um, but. You’re gonna do it, Pidge. You’re gonna find them, and it’s gonna be brilliant and cool and probably badass, let’s be real, and then we’re gonna save the universe. Together.” He curls a little closer around her, murmuring into the top of her head.

“Because I….we all love you, Pidge. And we’re all behind you on this. You don’t have to do it all alone.”

Hunk waits for her to pull away, to thank him for being a good friend. He strokes her hair absently… and realizes that her breathing has evened out. Her fingers are resting lightly under her face, vice grip loosened. 

She’s fast asleep. 

He smiles a little, feeling an unaccountable feeling rise in his chest- fondness and protection and affection all mixed together with something else, something harder to name.

He kisses the top of her head, and pulls her blanket over both of them.


	2. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six years after leaving Earth, the paladins return; and although the planet hasn't changed, the paladins have. Pidge and Hunk are both surprised to find that Earth no longer feels like home for them. It's a good thing, then, that they've been able to find a home in each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah this is like... a lot of porn? I'm actually surprised at how long this chapter got and how much plot wound up going into it, because originally i just set out to write some good good Punk smut. Enjoy and let me know what you think!
> 
> This chapter is based on the older versions of them in [this art](https://crazytom666.tumblr.com/post/165346456467) by [@crazytom](https://crazytom666.tumblr.com) . I really love their art and I ESPECIALLY love his aged-up Hunk and Pidge. Anyway, most importantly, that means they're both consenting adults in this fic! And presumably have both been consenting adults for as long as they've been having sex! Hurray!
> 
> As always, thanks to the beautiful @purgamentoram for beta'ing this fic. You're perfect.

 

It’s almost dinnertime, and Hunk is making pork buns. He’s feeling strange and restless, as though his body isn’t entirely his; just limbs and thoughts cobbled together in an approximation of a person.

 

The castle’s clocks claim it’s close to midnight, but Hunk can see Earth out the kitchen windows. The light falling on the Polynesian Islands is the glowing yellow of late afternoon, so that’s what time it is, as far as Hunk is concerned. Dinnertime. He’s the only one in the kitchen right now, but he knows the rest of the team will be filtering in soon, trickling in in ones and twos from three days planetside. Hunk is the first back, and he’s hoping these pork buns will be done by the time everyone else returns to the Castle.

 

Lost in thought, he slams the dough down on the counter, kneading it with more force than is probably necessary. He glances out the window at the glowing blue planet below him, and a small, unconscious line crinkles on his forehead.

 

It’s been six years since they left Earth for the first time. Six years to the day, and sometimes Hunk forgets that his life was anything but this; forgets that he didn’t always live in an alien castle, didn’t always spend all his time with the same seven people, fly a giant lion, risk his life on the regular to defend the universe.

 

He’d forgotten what it was like to live a regular life. To be part of a family by blood, not just by love and affection and absolute, unwavering trust.

 

He’d spent so much of those first few years missing his family. He’d missed his Mom’s exuberant smile, her big arms and her comforting smell, and his Mama’s jokes, their laughter together. He’d missed his younger siblings pestering him for stories, asking him to stop studying and play with them.  

 

He’d missed Earth itself: the food, of course, but also the taste of the air, the way trees looked, the feeling of walking down a street and understanding what passersby were saying. He’d missed going home on weekends, video chatting from his room in the Garrison; hell, he’d even missed the Garrison sometimes, missed the pranks, the sneaking out, the innocent days before the weight of the universe had settled permanently on his shoulders.

 

He’d thought about Earth a lot, those first years in space.

 

But it’s strange, Hunk thinks, how uncomfortable it was to finally go home.

  
  
  


After Dr. Holt had left, more than two years ago now, they’d all expected to receive transmissions back from Earth. As time went on with no word, they’d been increasingly worried. But with the empire cracking apart, there had been no time to visit Earth; and they hadn’t wanted to bring any of the warlord factions down on their home planet, so they’d stayed away. But then, a few days ago, Coran had announced a project that needed supplies from a hidden Altean stash on one of Jupiter’s moons, and they’d decided to check in on Earth while they were back; decided to make sure that Sam Holt’s message had reached the governments, that they would be ready for the Galra when they inevitably came, to check in with their families in person and reassure them that they were still okay.

 

But after monitoring Earth’s radio and Internet chatter for a day, there seemed to be nothing about aliens, about Voltron, no stirrings of intergalactic war lighting up the news. Even when Pidge hacked into classified US intel, they couldn’t find anything about Sam Holt or the information he’d brought home. 

 

Nothing was different. The world wasn’t waiting for them. 

 

It was almost as if Sam Holt had never made it back.

  
  
  
  


The team had originally planned on wearing the clothes they’d had on when they first left the planet, which by now were threadbare and several years out of date; but when Hunk had gone to pull on his comfortable old vest, his yellow shirt, he’d found them too tight around the shoulders. They didn’t fit quite right; didn’t seem as natural or as comfortable as he remembered.

 

They all had other clothes now, of course; the sleek black and grey outfits they wore to train in, to lounge in, or basically whenever they weren’t in full armour, well-fitted from the Castle’s tailor algorithm, and subtly colour-coded for their respective lions. Those were the clothes that Hunk was really comfortable in now; so he’d just given up and worn those instead. 

 

When he’d met the others at the pod bay, it seemed they’d all made the same decision; although Keith had Lance’s old jacket thrown over his shoulders, the way he so often did, and Pidge had pulled on her old green sweater over her comfortable leggings and tank top. It fit her better now than it ever had, collar rising around her slender neck, but she could still bury her hands into the huge front pocket, letting the worn sweater swallow her whole. The sight of it made Hunk nostalgic and affectionate, all at once. 

 

Nearby, Matt stood talking quietly with Coran and Allura, giving them some final advice for their brief Earth vacation and making sure that their disguises were good enough. Allura looked very strange with rounded ears, but Coran seemed to be deeply tickled by his trilby hat.

 

Shiro was already tinkering with one of the pods. It washed in and out of the visible spectrum as he double-checked that its cloaking device was functional.

 

Allura, Coran and Shiro had decided together that if the world was still unaware, it made the most sense to gather more information before revealing Voltron and the castle. They decided to take it slow; Allura and Coran would look for more information, and the paladins and Matt would take a few days to visit their families- that way, the Holts could track down their father, and the rest of them could take a breather and let their families know they were safe, take a few days on the planet they’d always known before they changed it forever.

They’d all split up, taking pods to their respective homes, sinking cloaked through the atmosphere. It felt strange to watch his islands rise up towards him. Flying down to them in an Altean pod, it felt just the same as it had to fly down to any new planet. Flying down to land on Earth felt just the same as any other day, any other random mission as part of Voltron, except it  _ wasn’t _ the same, it was  _ Earth _ , it was exactly the same as it had always been. Unlike most of the planets they visited, this was still a world at peace; a world that knew nothing about the war happening beyond their solar system.

 

And it was  _ their  _ world.

 

He’d walked down the street feeling naked and exposed without his armour. He’d missed the comforting weight of his bayard at his side, the low, constant chatter of his teammates in his ear. At one point, a car had backfired, and he’d had to physically hold himself back from ducking and rolling behind the nearest wall to get a vantage point. 

 

He was so used to staying alert whenever they left the castle that it felt wrong to walk freely through the streets. It felt like a dream: walking through his old neighbourhood, climbing the stairs to his own front door, pulling out the key to let himself in.

 

No one was home. 

 

Hunk had sat nervously among the embroidered cushions and lavender walls of his childhood home, feeling as though those walls were closing in on him, aching for the wide hallways of the Castle. He hadn’t turned on any lights, but instead watched the shadows stretch and move as the afternoon wore on. The bright sunlight filtering through the curtains had faded from yellow into a dull peach, and then into a dim twilight grey before he heard a key turn in the lock, and he’d tensed himself for whatever was about to come.

 

His moms hadn’t recognized him at first. 

 

Then, of course, there had been a lot of crying- and of course, when his moms cried, Hunk cried. His Mama had collapsed into his chest and wouldn’t let him go- she’d seemed unable to believe he was really back. His calm, pragmatic Mom had smothered them both in hugs, and then wiped her tears away, smiling, and bustled off to put the kettle on, while Mama cried even harder.

 

He’d had to sit down with them in their calm yellow kitchen and explain everything. Explain why he’d been gone so long, what had happened, explain why he couldn’t stay. He’d talked until the dark outside the window seemed to push in on him, until his fingers twitched restlessly over his thigh, looking for a bayard he wasn’t carrying. In his mom’s kitchen, with the smell of cinnamon mingling with the steam coming from his mug, his talk of spaceships and robots and evil alien races had seemed unreal; distant and dreamlike, worlds removed from his childhood home.

 

It’s no wonder, Hunk thinks now, that his moms didn’t recognize him. He toes open a cupboard and reaches for his space flour, still lost in thought. As he mixes it in to his dough, a hank of hair slides free from his headband, falling in his face. He tucks it back with a floury hand.

 

His hair has grown long and unruly; even though he ties it back most days and still wears his trademark headband, the combination of his hair, his beard, and the scars he’s accumulated make him look almost piratical. He’s always been a big kid, but six years of training hard and fighting nearly every day has turned his large physique into mostly muscle. He’d been strong before, but round, and more of a pacifist than a fighter; but the years of combat had a visible effect on his body. Dressed in the sleek alien clothes, he’d looked completely different from the Hunk who had left the Garrison six years ago.

 

Who had his mothers seen, when they’d come through that door?

 

Lost in his thoughts, Hunk almost doesn’t notice the kitchen door slide open and then closed again behind him. He jumps when he feels slim arms slide around his middle. 

 

“Hey,” he says. “You’re back early.” He dusts the flour off himself, turning around in her hold. 

 

Pidge shrugs, letting her face fall against his broad chest. “Missed you,” she mumbles.

 

He feels her whole body loosen and slump against him, and he tugs her closer. Grinning a little, he kisses her hair. “This is the first time you’ve relaxed at all since you left, isn’t it?”

 

She spares a glare up at him. “Maybe,” she says, and lets her face fall back into his shirtfront, mumbling. “Shut up.”

 

He shifts his hold on her, leaning on the counter. “It’s been weird, hasn’t it?” he says softly. 

 

She nods, knowing exactly what he means. “I thought it was just that I missed Green. Well, that, and of course, seeing Mom again, having to explain everything, realizing Dad didn’t make it…” she shakes her head. “That was.” She sighs. “Yeah. Really Hard.” He squeezes her waist, and she lifts her head to look at him, smiling a little even though her brow is pinched with worry.

 

“But… it was  _ weird _ not to see any of you for days. I mean. We’ve split up before, but I could always at least talk to you, y’know? And this mission….” She makes a face at her own slip, grimacing. “Well, not really a mission.” She sighs heavily. “But it may as well have been, for how… I mean….” She shakes her head, trailing off.

 

“I know.”

 

Hunk knows exactly what she means. It wasn’t a mission, but… it had certainly felt like one, sometimes, more than it had felt like a vacation.

 

They’d decided that they could afford to take three days with their families. For Hunk, that had been three days of cooking with his siblings and listening for distant alarms, going for long walks by the ocean with his mom, trying to take advantage of this peace while he had it; three days of occasional texts from the team on his communicator and nothing else, no holo-calls or radio chatter just in case it got picked up by someone it shouldn’t. He’d slept in his childhood bed, in a room his mom had left superstitiously untouched; and woke up disoriented in the night, tensing at phantom alarms. 

 

The whole time, he’d felt the absence of Yellow like a toothache.

 

At the end of his stay, Hunk was relieved to come home to the castle with a bag full of Earth spices, and cook up a huge batch of pork buns for his space family. He was relieved to see Yellow again, relieved to walk down wide white halls. He’s relieved to be back in his own kitchen with Pidge in his arms. (Well, it’s technically Allura’s kitchen, just like everything else on the Castle- but everyone’s thought of it as Hunk’s kitchen for years now). 

 

He can only imagine what those three days were like for Pidge. She had Matt there, but from the few texts she sent, it sounds like there was no sign of Dr. Holt. They’d had to go and explain to their mother why they’d all been missing for more than six years, why they’d never sent word, tell her how they didn’t know where their dad was anymore…

 

It had been hard enough explaining to his moms. Hunk didn’t know if he would’ve been able to do it if he still had someone missing, like Pidge did. He doesn’t know how he would find the strength. 

 

Pidge is still leaning on him. She mumbles into his chest again, and he has to strain to hear the words.

 

“It just fucking sucks.” Her breath is shaky, and he knows she’s probably close to tears. “I just…  _ fuck,  _ Hunk. He’s gone. He’s gone  _ again, _ and I can’t… I can’t  _ do  _ anything, I…”

 

He knows this is rare; knows she’ll pick herself up once everyone gets here, knows she would never want to show this kind of vulnerability around the team, so he pulls her closer, running a hand up her back to cup the back of her head. 

 

“I know.”

 

He runs his fingers through her hair, letting his blunt nails scrape against her scalp. He’s still not entirely used to how short her hair is now. It’s cropped close to her skull around the back; not long and shaggy like it used to be, but still soft. Pidge makes a little noise and squeezes him tighter, and he feels a shiver run through her. He scratches the back of her head, smoothing her hair down, and feels her readjust herself, snaking her arms up over his shoulders, cupping the back of his neck.

 

She turns her face up for his kiss, and he smiles.

 

Hunk presses his lips to her temple first, brushing away the unshed tears with his thumb. Feathering kisses down her other cheek, he cups her small face in his hand, and kisses her jaw, working his way to the corner of her mouth.

 

Pidge is taller now than she used to be, which means their height difference isn’t quite so comically large anymore. Still, though, he’s got a good foot on her, and he’s bending to kiss her upturned face, teasing by staying just out of her reach. It never works for long. At some point she always- ah, yep, there it is.

 

Hunk smiles as she makes an impatient noise, getting up on the balls of her feet, standing on tiptoe to kiss him properly. He grins into it and deepens the kiss, licking across the seam of her lips, reveling in the taste of her skin.

 

He slips his tongue past her lips, exploring her mouth in a leisurely way, and she sighs, melting closer against him. 

 

It felt like more than three days since he’d seen her last, and  _ quiznak _ , he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed this. How much he’d missed her. It was as though he’d lost a limb, lost some vital sense, but hadn’t even noticed it until this moment.

 

He wants more, suddenly, needs her level with him and open to him, so he lifts her by the waist, pulling her closer, catching her under the hips. Pidge wraps her legs around him, kissing him hungrily, and he spins around to set her on the counter. She tugs him closer with her heels in his back, and he complies, settling easily against her, leaning his weight on the counter and pulling her flush against him.

 

The kitchen doors choose that moment to slide open. Pidge pulls back with a pop, frowning past him. 

 

He turns just as Allura and Coran walk in, followed the rest of the team. No one so much as bats an eyelid at them, but Hunk knows how Pidge feels about too much PDA. He disengages himself from Pidge, and she squeezes his hand before pulling a tablet out of her pocket. 

 

“Hey now. Don’t pout,” he tells her quietly, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

 

Her frown deepens. “As if I ever pout.” She sniffs exaggeratedly and pulls up a holographic map. “I sulk like a grown adult, thanks very much.”

 

Hunk snorts, moving casually across the kitchen back to his mixing bowl to pick up where he left off. Pidge stays perched on the counter, but grins to herself as Lance bounds over to taste Hunk’s newest creation. 

 

The two Alteans are chattering to Shiro and Keith about the Earth landmarks they’d visited on the team’s recommendations, showing them holovids of the two of them posing in hats and sunglasses: the Eiffel Tower, the pyramids, enjoying the sun on a tropical beach. The pictures are silly and fun. In each one, Coran and Allura are making one of the ridiculous Earth gestures that Lance has taught them over the years, and Hunk can’t help but smile. Lance, too, is full of stories- it seems that once his family had gotten over the shock, they’d called in all the extended family in town to have a huge dinner party. 

 

“And,” said Lance, “they  _ looooved _ Keith, didn’t they, babe? My mom was practically ready to adopt you!”

 

Keith has his arms crossed over his chest. He shrugs. “Your mom seemed nice, but everyone was a little…” he shrugs. “Loud?”

 

Hunk laughs. “I know what you mean, dude. Lance’s family is fun, but they can get intense.” 

 

Lance jumps in. “Yeah- the first time Hunk visited, they nearly drowned the poor guy! Remember-” and Lance is off, launching into the story.

 

Even as he slips into easy conversation, though, Hunk keeps a worried eye on Pidge.

 

She’s not sharing her story from her three days on Earth. Instead, she’s curling her shoulders in, focusing tighter in on her tablet, on the glowing green text reflecting in her glasses. Hunk can see the worried tilt to her posture, the telltale sharp flicks of her fingers through the moving code. 

 

He picks up his oven tray and maneuvers his way past her, deliberately nudging her legs as he goes by. She looks up, blinking, and for a second there’s a crack in her calm, serious veneer. For just a second, instead of the poised, snarky, spitfire genius, Hunk sees just a glimpse of the small, scared Pidge who used to wander the halls of the Castle wrapped in a blanket. 

 

He squeezes her thigh. 

 

“Dinner’s almost ready. Don’t go anywhere, yeah?”

  
  
  


_____________________________________________________________

  
  
  
  


Dinner seems to go on forever.

 

Pidge has missed her space family, yeah, but she can’t get rid of the nagging, urgent feeling in the back of her mind: the one telling her to get up, to work, to move, telling her that every second she wastes here is a second she could be spending hacking into government databases, another minute she could be using to find her dad again. 

 

She can’t believe she has to find her dad  _ again. _

 

Allura says her name, across the table, and Pidge forces herself back into the conversation.

 

“What?” 

 

“I asked if you’ve had enough pork buns,” said Allura. Her hand is hovering over the platter, clearly hoping to snag the last one.

 

“Oh,” said Pidge, “yeah, go for it.” She shakes her head, trying to clear it, trying to get rid of the image of her mother’s shocked, tear-streaked face. “I’m fine.”

 

Hunk gets up to start clearing the plates, and shoots her a concerned look from behind Allura. It’s a look that’s clearly asking  _ everything okay? _

 

Pidge shakes her head:  _ I’m fine.  _ Hunk bites his lip, but starts clearing dishes away from the table using the maglev dishwasher system, bringing out dessert bowls.

 

They’ve got a treat for dessert tonight, real Ben & Jerry’s that Lance picked up on his way off-planet. Strangely, it’s that more than anything else that really makes it sink in: they’ve finally made it home. They were finally able to see their families. They’re  _ so close _ to winning. The atmosphere around the table should be electric, it should be celebratory and keyed up and joyful, but instead it’s subdued, worried. 

 

None of them had even considered that Earth might not know.

 

They debrief over ice cream. Allura and Coran start, sharing the information they’ve gleaned in between their tourist expeditions. Shiro goes next, telling them what he’s been able to find out from his trusted contacts inside the Garrison.

 

They’re pretending it’s just dessert conversation, but no one is zoning out anymore. There’s no overlapping threads of conversation mixing across the table, no wild tangents. They’re sharing information now, making plans; and as Green Paladin and a Holt, it’s Pidge’s responsibility to give them the most important update. 

 

When it’s her turn, she shares a look with Matt. She takes a deep breath, and steels herself. She’s a paladin. This is just another debrief. She can do this.

 

“There was no one at our old house,” she starts, and she hears Lance hiss with sympathy. She takes another shaky breath, and decides to leave out the crying, the panicking, the frantic search through internet and emails and metadata. “When we finally found her, she was in a different city. Turns out she’s been campaigning hard against the Garrison. She sold the house and moved to an apartment in the city to be closer. She’s been trying to convince the public that they’ve been covering up something big- you know, the Kerberos disaster, and the story they circulated about a freak accident and all our deaths.” The room is silent. Matt nods encouragingly.

 

“She… she was pretty happy we’re alive. Obviously.” She smiles at Matt, a little shakily, and plows on. “Anyway, we told her everything.” Pidge remembered Colleen’s face, her sobs and the way she had clutched at both of her children, unwilling to let either of them go. The way she’d seemed wild-eyed, the pages and pages of handwritten notes, the conviction that the Garrison was hiding something.

 

Pidge hadn’t even realized how badly she’d wanted to see her mother until she’d been there in front of her. But seeing her in person, she’d realized how much her mother had aged in the last six years. 

 

When they’d rescued Sam from Zarkon, he’d looked grey, looked as though he’d aged twenty years instead of five; her mother was even worse. Her hair was almost entirely grey, and she had deep, permanent bags under her eyes.

 

Pidge had remembered her mother as a laughing woman; funny, smart, and fiercely protective of her children. Part of her had longed for her mother over the last six years, the same way she’d longed for Matt, for her dad: she’d wanted someone who could hold her, who would make her feel safe, tell her that everything was going to be okay. She’d wanted someone to surround her in warmth and comfort and certaintly, take all this weight off her shoulders and tell her that none of the monsters were real.

 

Meeting her mother again face-to-face, she’d realized that it was the opposite. Colleen Holt couldn’t save Pidge from anything. Her mom was just one more person that she needed to protect.

 

Pidge took a deep breath.

 

“She said that she had a coded message, a little over eighteen months ago, that she was sure was from Dad, saying that he was on his way. But on the day she was expecting him, there was no word- only what the Garrison claimed was an unusually large asteroid landing near their Arizona facility.” 

 

She touches the glowing datapad tattooed onto the side of her neck, and a hologram of Colleen’s notes appears over the table, scrolling through the relevant data. It flashes from a code to handwritten notes to pages on UFO forums, complete with blurry photos of a white flash streaking through the sky. Pidge twists her hand in midair, and one of the photos enlarges itself, sharpening and focusing into higher contrast. In the middle of the white glow, the shape of a Castle escape pod is clearly visible. 

 

There’s a collective sharp breath around the table.

 

“From what Mom could find out, the asteroid was isolated immediately for “scientific purposes” and taken back to the main Garrison labs.” Pidge makes air quotes with her hands, mouth drawn into a tight line. “Based on the information available, it would seem that the Garrison pulled the same stunt with Dad that they tried to pull with Shiro.”

 

“That they  _ would’ve _ pulled with Shiro if we hadn’t been there,” Lance interjects. 

 

“And we weren’t.” Next to Pidge, Shiro’s brow is furrowed as he stares at the black and white image hovering over the table. He tears his gaze away to lay a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Katie.”

 

She shakes her head. “I don’t blame you,” she says, and looks up again at the Garrison notes her mother spent years making. “I blame the bastards who took him from us again. I wanna make them pay.”

  
  
  
  


_______________________________________________

  
  
  
  
  


Pidge is four hours deep in a CIA database when she hears the knock on the door. 

 

“Not right now!” she calls, glancing at the clock. Quiznak, when did it get that late?

 

She hears the door slides open, and turns with the words already on her lips. 

 

“I said not right now, are you… oh.” She rubs her eyes, pushing her glasses up out of the way. “Hey, Hunk.”

 

“Hey.” Hunk palms the door closed, and settles himself on her bed, glancing at her screen. “Really, Pidge? The CIA?”

 

Pidge shrugs. “It’s child’s play compared to the Galra systems. I mean, come on, with these guys I’m even using my native alphabet. Where’s the challenge in that?” She covers a yawn with her hand, turning back to her several holoscreens.

 

Hunk’s face crinkles with a smile. “Come to bed,” he whines, reaching out grabby hands for her. She swats them away. 

 

“Just a little longer,” she says. “I’m almost done.”

 

“I call bullshit on that one.” Hunk stands up and wanders over behind her chair. “When you say ‘almost done’ what you really mean is ‘just six more hours and then I’ll have a new idea i need to follow.” He folds himself over her back, resting his chin on her head and wrapping his beefy arms around her body, desk chair and all. She squirms her hands out and rests them over his arms. 

 

“No, it means…” Pidge scrolls stubbornly for a couple seconds more, adding another line of code to her search parameters, and realizes she’s too tired to think of a good comeback. She rubs her eyes again. “It means almost done, okay? I just need to finish this.”

 

“Pidge.” Hunk straightens, catching her wrist gently in one hand. “You don’t need to finish this right now. We have all the information we need. We have the plan. It’s all going to be fine.” 

 

She realizes suddenly how tiny her hand looks, pale and delicate in his grip, and she feels powerless all of a sudden, powerless and small. Closing her hand into a fist, the scars on the knuckles stand out suddenly, stark white.

 

She tugs her wrist away, and he lets go easily. She spins the chair around to face him. His face is lined with worry, and he’s frowning.

 

“I’m fine,” she insists again, even though he hadn’t said anything. The look on his face was enough. “You don’t need to worry about me, okay? I just…I need to check. Just in case.”

 

Hunk pulls her up from her chair. She lets him tug her into his arms, lets her head fall onto his shoulder, beard tickling the side of her neck. 

 

“You don’t need to keep doing this to yourself,” he says, and she can hear his chest vibrate low against her as he talks. “You need to get some rest. Did you even sleep at all while we were apart?” 

 

She doesn’t answer. He knows as well as she does that she rarely sleeps unless he makes her. Instead, she burrows deeper into his shirtfront, hoping he’ll understand, hoping she won’t have to tell him. 

 

“I can’t lose them again,” she gets out, and fuck, her voice sounds choked. She’s not going to cry. She’s not. 

 

“You won’t,” says Hunk, and his grip on her tightens almost imperceptibly. “You won’t ever. I promise. If we have to go and get him ourselves, we will.” His voice is like steel, and Pidge is reminded again that beneath Hunk’s soft, playful exterior is a soldier fighting the same war she is. There’s so much unspoken between them- so much that doesn’t need to be said anymore, and just that much is enough to remind her of everything he’s not saying: because Pidge is not alone anymore. 

 

She’s not a scared teenager, listening to alien radio chatter alone on the Garrison roof. She’s not a worried insomniac, barely sleeping, wandering the Castle halls night after night looking for something to ground her. She doesn’t have to hack into systems alone at night, carry the weight of the world on her small frame; she has people around her that she can trust. She has a family that would do anything for her, a family closer than blood that would cross galaxies to keep her and her family safe. She has Hunk, who is more of a home to her than any place on the planet they’re orbiting.

 

Her breathing calms, and she pulls him tighter, unable to find the words to express how grateful she is, how much he means to her. He knows, and she knows, what they are to each other; after so long it’s as simple as breathing, as simple as forming Voltron. They run in parallel circuit, trading phrases and finishing sentences, tossing ideas back and forth until they grow big enough to shift planets. They’re always on the same wavelength, thoughts and bodies pushing towards exactly the same thing; so when Pidge tilts her face up towards his, he’s already there, melding their lips together with the ease of long familiarity. 

 

She curls her fingers into his shirt, pushes higher on her toes to reach him better, and Hunk laughs. His face is open, suddenly, the worry melting away, and he leans forward, tipping their foreheads together. She brings a hand up to his face, tucking a curl back under his headband and out of her way, and he rests one large hand on her hip, warm and heavy and secure.

 

“Come to bed,” he whispers. He kisses her again, more insistent now, tracing slow circles over her back. He breaks the kiss to trail his lips down her jaw, down her neck, breath warm on her collarbone. His beard tickles her exposed skin. “I missed you.” 

 

He kisses the glowing datapad on the side of her neck- it’s been twice as sensitive since the Olkari calibrated it last, and he knows it, damn him. She shivers involuntarily, and he huffs a laugh. 

 

Well, two can play at that game.

 

Pidge smiles a little, and tugs him forward, throwing him off balance. Using a move she learned from Keith, she leverages his own weight against him and tosses him down on the bed.

 

Hunk lands with a soft “oof” and a thump, and his head cracks against the back wall of her bunk.

 

“Ow!” He rubs at the back of his head, making a face. Pidge suppresses the urge to laugh, a mixture of concern and amusement bubbling through her.

 

“Shit, sorry!” She thinks the apology might be ruined somewhat by the grin she’s fighting down. Hunk sends her a self-deprecating smile as she climbs on to the bed.

 

“Guess I deserved that, huh?”

 

“If you play dirty, I play dirty.” She shrugs and straddles him. 

 

“That was a rough one, though. Ow?”

 

“Sorry,” she says again. Settling herself directly over his groin, she makes herself comfortable, biting down on her smile when she hears him hiss. She’s absolutely not sorry. “Guess I just don’t know my own strength.”

 

“More like you’ve been practicing Marmora moves with Keith again,” Hunk grumbles.

 

“Quit your bitching. You know you love it.”

 

“True.” Hunk sits up and wraps an arm around her back. His other hand slides up her thigh, and the sudden warmth sends waves of heat through her belly. She can feel him getting harder through his loose work pants. “You know I love being manhandled by you.” His eyes are wicked, and his fingers tighten on her thigh, and honestly, when he’s looking at her like that, how can she not kiss him?

 

She leans in and catches his lips, quick and light, but Hunk’s hand slides up between her shoulder blades. Cradling the back of her neck, he deepens the kiss, turning it slow and languid, and she feels his thumb move slowly along the inner seam of her leggings. A little noise breaks in the back of her throat, dragging air in through her nose, and she hums appreciatively into his mouth.

 

Hunk breaks the kiss and leans their foreheads together. 

 

“I really did miss you,” he says. 

 

Pidge looks up at him through her lashes. His eyes are closed, but his hand is tracing slow, soft circles up her spine. She smiles, a small, fond thing.

 

“I missed you too.” She brings her left hand up to rest against his collarbone, slim fingers loosely curled together. Her other hand slides up his neck, and she traces the shape of his cheekbone with her thumb. 

 

Hunk inhales sharply, dark eyes opening, and she kisses him, sliding their mouths together with the ease of long practice. She loses herself in the feel of him; the wet movement of his lips on hers, the round solidity of his body under her, the heat of his fingers dipping under the hem of her shirt. He runs his hands up her sides, underneath her tank top, and the rough fabric of his gloves raises goosebumps on her skin. 

As he skims his palms over her ribs, she lifts her arms impatiently, letting him pull her shirt up and over her head. Tossing it aside, he rakes his fingers through her short hair. Electricity courses down her spine. 

 

Pidge grinds down hard onto his lap and he groans into her mouth. She can feel how hard he is, how huge he feels, and just the memory of having him inside her is enough to make her wet.

 

She swipes her tongue over his, and grabs at his other hand, pulling off his glove without having to look. He tugs the other off, letting both hands fall on her hips, skimming up her ribs, palms warm in the cool Castle air, and she can feel the heat of it pooling in the base of her belly. She pulls back long enough to undo the ties on her-- well, she thinks of it as a bra, but it’s really this extremely comfortable Altean version of a bra-- and Hunk pouts. 

 

“You never let me do it!”

 

“If I let you do it we’d be here all night.” She drops the bra and kisses his cheek, and then his ear, working her way down his neck. “Nothing personal.” 

 

The air of the castle is cool against her exposed chest, making her shiver. She tugs at his headband, loosening the ties, and pulls it out, so that Hunk’s hair tumbles out of its loose knot, falling damply around his shoulders. She works her fingers into the soft curls.

 

Hunk tilts his head back, making a low noise, and catches her hand in his. He kisses the palm, each finger, and finally her wrist, licking and lingering as he works his way up her arm. When he gets to her shoulder, he presses his hand flat against her back, urging her to arch up into his touch. Her breasts brush his shirtfront, sensitive nipples tightening. She grips his hair tighter, letting her arm fall around his shoulder as he sucks at the crook of her neck, and he makes a low sound, pulling her flush against him.

 

Hunk’s other hand lets go of her arm to wrap around her hip, thumb finding the ridge of her hipbone. He tugs upwards, urging her up onto her knees, and drags his hand up the curve of her waist to cup her breast. His thumb brushes gently over her nipple, and she shudders, feeling the sensation travel straight to her groin. Her fingers tighten in his hair. 

 

“ _ Hunk,” _ she whines, steadying herself on his shoulder. 

 

He grins, and dips his head to close his mouth over her other breast.

 

“Fuck,” she gasps, arching her back. His thumb strokes over her nipple again, and again, finding a steady rhythm, hands moving at the same pace as his tongue. 

 

Pidge is on fire. She presses herself forward, desperate to feel him against her, and his hand slides down her back to rest just above her waistband. The warmth is so good on her bare skin- the sensations are almost too much, heat and motion contrasting with the cold air raising goosebumps on her back.

 

He pinches her nipple and twists, hard. Pidge’s whole body jerks, and she tugs his head by the hair, sliding down to kiss him again. Hunk moans into her mouth, and she feels his cock twitch.

 

Suddenly, he curls both arms around her back, and uses his bulk to flip them over. His weight pins her to the mattress. Now she can feel the full, hard length of him pressed against her belly as he grinds down.

 

She tugs at the hem of his shirt, and he pulls it off, dives down to kiss her hungrily again. Their chests meet skin to skin, covering her completely, and  _ oh _ that feels good. Hunk kisses her thoroughly, holding his weight off her on one elbow, and Pidge fumbles to reach his fly, fingertips sliding ineffectively along the seam where skin meets fabric.

 

He breaks the kiss to laugh, sliding down her body and out of reach. 

 

Pidge pouts, but the pout opens up into a silent gasp when Hunk presses a wet kiss to her lower stomach. She can feel her belly tighten, abs hardening reflexively, and Hunk runs his fingers over them, just barely scraping her skin with his nails. He kisses her belly again and hooks his fingers in her waistband, tugging her leggings down and off.

 

Propping herself up for a better view, Pidge quirks a brow at Hunk where he kneels at the edge of the bed. His eyes gleam, and he yanks her forward, settling between her legs. Kissing the inside of her thigh, he lightly brushing his knuckles over her folds; then works his tongue up her thigh, and bites it gently, letting his fingers wander. She gasps, and her hips buck involuntarily.

 

Pushing her thighs apart for better access, Hunk lowers his head. Pidge’s head falls back as she feels his tongue, and-  _ oh, quiznak-  _ yep, there’s the Hunk she knows and loves. 

 

He starts slow, using the flat of his tongue, pressing and flicking. The sensations travel up her spine, through her hips, burning through her whole body. Hunk has always been a generous lover, and over the years he’s gotten  _ very  _ good with his tongue. 

 

He flicks over her clit with his tongue, rapidfire, and begins to suck it. Pidge moans out loud, and feels him slip a finger into her. 

 

“Shit,” he pants, pulling back, “you’re so wet, babe.”

 

“Don’t  _ stop _ ,” Pidge whines. She grabs blindly for his hair, clutching it as he goes back to work. A low groan escapes her, and his tongue moves faster, licking and sucking at the sensitive area all around her clit. 

 

He slips another finger in, and begins to move it with the first, and her hips buck up involuntarily.

 

“Jesus  _ fucking _ Christ,” Pidge pants. “Hunk,  _ Hunk _ , fuck, I need more. I need more  _ right  _ fucking now.”

 

She tugs his hair, tugs him away, and he rises to meet her, wiping his lips obscenely with one wrist. When she kisses him, she can taste herself on him, and  _ damn, _ that shouldn’t be hot, why is that so hot?

 

Hunk stands up, and starts to strip, suddenly all business. Pidge follows, unwilling to lose contact with his skin, helping as best as she can as he kicks his pants away. She closes the distance to kiss him again, slipping her tongue into her mouth, and feels his bare cock jut insistently against her stomach.

 

She shoves him down on the bed again, but this time, he tugs her with him, rolling them both over at the edge of the bed. Impatient, she throws a leg over him, levering herself up onto her knees, spreading herself over his sturdy lap. 

 

Hunk’s cock is familiar to her, of course- not too long, but wide, almost flat, and thick. She’s always thought dicks looked a bit strange; she doesn’t precisely know what makes an attractive one, but she thinks Hunk’s is nice enough- darker than most of his skin, purplish at the tip, but with nice proportions- and  _ god _ it feels good inside her. She’s pretty sure, though, that’s just Hunk’s finesse, rather than the cock itself, but, scientifically speaking, it’s hard to be sure. 

 

She wraps a hand around it, fingers barely meeting her thumb, and gives it a long, slow stroke. The skin is silky smooth, moving slightly under her hands, but his cock is rock solid. She squeezes. Hunk moans out loud, and his hands tighten on her hips. 

 

“Jesus, Pidge,” he gasps, and she strokes down again, thumbing experimentally over the slit. “ _ Fuck.” _

 

Pidge grins, and levers herself up on her knees. She lines him up with her entrance, and just the feel of his tip questing against her sends ripples through her body. 

 

Bracing both hands on his forearms, she makes eye contact. Hunk nods, and she sinks down on him, letting her eyes flutter closed. 

 

“ _ Hunk.”  _

 

It comes out in a sigh, and she feels his hands tighten on her hips, steadying. She opens her eyes to find him smiling languidly up at her.

 

After over a year, sex with Hunk has become familiar, part of her everyday. But somehow, it’s never the same, it’s never gotten boring. Somehow, Pidge thinks, it always feels like the first time; they always come at each other with the same excitement, the same hunger for skin, for safety, for feeling something bright and real and  _ good _ .

 

And this time is no different. 

 

After three days of living on guard, of coding on the balcony of an unfamiliar apartment, of having to explain herself, her instincts, to someone not used to the war they’re fighting- this is exactly what she needs. 

 

This feels like coming home.

 

Pidge stays still for a second, letting herself savour how full she feels, and then slowly slides up again, until she’s almost off him. Swirling her hips a little, she slides down again, right down to the hilt, and then immediately off once more. 

 

Hunk makes a long, drawn-out noise, and pushes desperately on her hips. She lets him push her down onto him, and then lifts up again. 

 

Moving one hand down to his chest, she starts to find a slow, steady rhythm, lifting and then grinding back down again, moving her hips forward in a scooping motion to take him as deep as possible. The friction is incredible, stretching her in a way she’s come to love, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through her. 

 

The next time, when she slides back down, she grinds as hard as she can onto him, and pushes her hips forward. Hunk gasps, and she does it again, keeping him buried to the hilt, thrusting slowly forward again and again. It creates a delicious friction as she feels him hit a sweet spot deep inside her. 

 

His face is an absolute study, and she grins as watches his expression shift. 

 

“Hah,” she gasps out, “you like that?”

 

“Fuck,” Hunk groans again. “Fuck, Pidge, I-” she thrusts again, sharply, and his words slur into an incoherent moan. Her smile grows smug, and she reaches to stroke her fingertips over his nipple.

 

He makes a noise deep in his throat. She slowly thrusts again, taking her time, circling her hips, grinding down. Suddenly, one of his big hands moves from her ass to her thigh, and his thumb finds her clit.

 

She jerks, and cries out. A wave of pleasure washes over her, centred on Hunk’s thumb on her clit, and he smirks, arching his hips up into her. As she circles her hips again, his thumb moves on her, the two sensations rolling into her both at once, bouncing off each other and amplifying inside her. It feels incredible. 

 

She pushes forward again, and her hips stutter. Hunk circles her clit again, rubbing faster over it, and she can feel the pressure building inside her, circling and growing. She closes her eyes, letting the sensations wash over her. She can hear herself panting, the sound loud in the silence of her room.

 

Hunk changes the movement of his thumb, hitting a sweet spot, and another wave of heat rolls through. She feels herself tighten, and he does it again, and again. 

 

“Fuck, Hunk,” she gasps out, “I’m close, I need-  _ ngh, fuck- _ ” She begins to rock her hips faster, speeding up, trying to get him deeper.

 

Hunk sits up. He wraps his arms around her back, pulling her against him, and tugging her hips into him. With a practiced maneuver, he flips them over, so that Pidge lands on her back below him. Taking over her rhythm, he begins to thrust into her, hard and fast. She wraps her legs around his back, urging him on. 

 

The friction is so good, building inside her, coiling tighter and tighter until she feels like she’s going to explode. She tips her head back, letting the sensations roll over her, and feels a low, guttural noise rip out of her throat. She’s practically there- she just needs-

 

Hunk shifts his angle slightly, angling deep inside her with one long stroke, and she shatters. It feels like her body is drifting apart and snapping back together, vibrating, burning up.

 

She grabs at his thick arms, curling in on herself, head lifting off the mattress and falling back down again as her body shakes. She lets her eyes close, letting out a shuddering breath, and grabs at Hunk blindly.

 

He buries his head in her shoulder, and keeps going. She cries out as he thrusts into her too-sensitive flesh, riding out his strokes as she shudders through her aftershocks. She winds her hand into his hair, holding him tight against her because he’s the only thing that seems real. He gasps, breath hot on her collarbone, and thrusts again, once, twice; she rakes her nails lightly up his spine, and he goes still, slumping down onto her with a gasp.

 

His weight on her is heavy and comforting, his bare skin hot on hers, and she cards her fingers through his hair, trying to breathe. She can still feel him inside her, and she twines her legs around his, keeping him there.

 

Pidge had never thought that regular sex was something she would want or need in her life- but, god, she missed this. She’s missed Hunk’s attention, his open affection, the way he looks at her like she’s the only thing in the room. She’s missed the way he understands without her having to explain, his intelligence and steadiness and humour. She’s missed this easy intimacy, the way he makes her feel, the way he knows her body so well.

 

She’s missed him.

 

After a bit, Hunk moves as if to roll off her, but she stills him with a hand on his back.

 

“No, it’s nice.” She kisses his hair, his ear. “Stay a little longer.” 

 

“S’cold,” she hears him mumble, and this time, she untangles herself, letting him move off her. She hisses when he pulls out of her, still sensitive, and shivers in the sudden cold.

 

“Come baaaack,” she whines, turning on her side and making grabby hands. “You’re my blanket. I need you, it’s fucking freezing in here.” 

 

Hunk laughs. He tugs the rumpled blanket out from under her, and crawls properly into bed, opening the blanket towards her in invitation. Pidge joins him. She kisses him thoroughly and then settles down, nestling into his side. 

 

“You okay?” he asks sleepily. His arm wraps around her shoulders.

 

“Mhm.” As she lets her eyes drift close, she realizes suddenly- she really is. For the first time in days, her whole body feels relaxed.

 

“Hunk?”

 

“Mmm?”

 

“I love you.”

 

He shifts slightly, pulls her closer, and she can almost hear his smile in his voice.

 

“Love you too. Now get some rest, okay?”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY friendos, so. I've never written smut before and??? I have no idea how well it turned out. Please please let me know what you thought of it because I literally have no idea what i'm doing. Did the pacing work? Is there anything you'd like to see more of? Let me know, I'd really love to have some feedback to incorporate when I write the epilogue for So Much More Than Spacedust. Olivia's main comment on this chapter was a single emoji dick so i rly need some feedback on this one.
> 
> As always, thank you so so much for reading and for all the kudos and comments. Your comments literally sustain me. bless all of you <3

**Author's Note:**

> honestly the world just needs more Punk content
> 
>  
> 
> If you're here because you were waiting for more Spacedust.... im so sorry friends. A nice long update is coming, i swear.


End file.
